It’s been a little over a year, perhaps two, since the thoughts started to creep in. How precisely long ago, you are not sure.

The dreams cease. You’re awake, conscious, and alive. Wearily opening your eyes and looking out the window, you can see that it’s snowing yet again. What kind of sick joke is this? Then you realize – right, it’s Oswego. You’re not home anymore, you’re in College. You sit there and think.

Waking up in the morning can prove to be quite a challenge at times. You’re not exactly an early-bird. Nevertheless, you find the motivation to get up from bed. Upon accomplishing that, you still find it a struggle to go outside.

You delay that for the time being. After conducting your usual hygienic activities and donning proper attire, you somehow muster the courage to reach the front door of the dormitory. Your hands stutter as you slowly open the door. Once outside though, the dawning realization falls upon you; people are a thing. You must begin to initiate daily interactions with your peers; you must begin to play the game.

This, of course, is an extremely terrifying endeavor. Yet despite knowing how frightening that prospect may be, it’s a reality you cannot avoid. You know that in order to be a fully functioning member of society, you must participate within it. This is fact; and neither you nor anyone else can avoid it. But you want to stay inside of your room, your humble abode, and avoid the judgmental glances.

“Okay!”, you exclaim. Once out the door, you press the START button; you begin to play the game. You see people you’ve come to be familiar with, some more than others. You exchange greetings, because you believe that to be the most efficient thing to do. You continue on to class, saying hello to every familiar face you come in contact with.

Once in a while, you come across an individual with whom you’re more familiar than with others. Of course, this calls for a more proficient method of address. Upon initial contact, you make small conversation. It’s your feeble attempt to catch up with how the person has been doing, yet it actually makes you happy. After that, you continue on to class. Regardless of what class it happened to be, you could not help but think how pointless it was. The day ends. You return home, back to the solitude of your room. You are very much glad that you don’t have to go back outside until tomorrow - you revel in the very thought.

The computer has been turned on. The startup page brings you relief: “Finally.” you exclaim. You put on headphones, lock your door, and remain peaceful for the remainder of the evening -- well, almost. People you’ve happened to befriend still come in from time to time. This is well received on your part. But you cannot help but wonder whether or not these people secretly despise you. You can’t shake off the thought.

Nevertheless, all good things come to an end. You fall asleep hoping for some miracle, you hope that the next day will actually be better. You really don’t want to go back outside, only to meet the gazes of your peers. Regardless of what they’re thinking, they must hate you; it only makes sense. Only people that hate you would give you strange looks, because you’re a strange person. Your very existence is disgusting, so much so, that others can’t help but look at you in disdain.

You slowly become more disappointed by the day. On the outside, you can seemingly tolerate people. You purposely retain a stoic, apathetic persona to hide your own inner turmoil. It’s been like that since day one. Nevertheless, people are still nice and friendly. Many also enjoy your company; you are surprised.

At the same time, however, you can’t help but think that the world is secretly judging you; assessing your every move, your demeanor, your personality, your actions, all since the day you were born. This prompts you to ask questions about yourself: “am I weird? do people dislike me? am I.. normal?” You take a few minutes to think about it. The thoughts consume you. “It’s terrible. Life is so very, very, terrible,” you continue to repeat in your head, over and over, as the people and their shadows eat you alive.

You’re not an idiot; as you believe that since we have no one person in which to assign the standards of normalcy; that the concept of “normal” is subjective. As without an absolute reference point, all comparisons are relative. “Normal”, at least in the terms society dictates, does not exist. and you know this. Regardless, you also know that humans are all still just a little insane, anyway.

For instance, just because one person may prefer ketchup on their hotdog over mustard, or stutter when they talk, or avoid eye contact when speaking to another, means absolutely nothing. But to some, many of these traits bridge the gap between what is considered “normal” and what isn’t. Why are these self imposed societal standards dictating whether or not a person is sane? Whether or not a person is NORMAL? What even is “normal” anyway? Why judge others for quirks they may or may not be able to control? It’s rather ludicrous; a ridiculous notion.

You know how irrational this all is as well, which makes this all the more weirder. The world is grey in it’s entirety. People look mechanical.. like robots. Is there just something that you’re not getting? How do humans manage?

It is this anxiety – this fear of people – that makes engaging in simple activities very, very difficult. You only learn this recently. People are much harder to talk to when you’re afraid of them. You can’t properly conjure up ways of starting, continuing and ending conversation, so at times you simply don’t talk at all.